The
stature of Dave Mackay in Tottenham folklore is vast and indisputable;
indeed, to imagine Spurs' great sixties side without the vibrant
Scot is to picture the Huns without Attila or the Alamo without
Davy Crockett. Yet while it is right that so much is made of Dave's
dynamic, warrior-like qualities - many have written that if Blanchflower
was the brains of the team, Mackay was its heart - there is a
danger of under-selling his sheer, unadulterated all-round talent.

In
fact, his control was second to none, he was the cleanest striker
of a ball at the club and he passed with the utmost precision.
And how the mighty left-half reveled in his skill; in training
he would astonish team-mates by volleying continuously against
a wall from ten or even 15 yards - anyone who doubts the difficulty
of this trick should attempt it for themselves - and later, as
Spurs captain, he would run on to the pitch, kick the ball high
in the air, then catch it infallibly on his instep, a subtle form
of intimidation that demanded of his opponents. 'Can you do that?'

All
this is not to say, of course, that the traditional image of Dave
Mackay is a myth. Despite standing just 5ft 8in, he exerted an
awesome physical presence, muscular thighs and a barn-door of
a chest topped by features that were positively piratical. The
man tackled like a granite avalanche, exuding a passionate will
to win and apparently consumed by a devilish, ruthless relish
for his work. Colleagues leapt to do his bidding as he drove them
on, invariably by stirring personal example, often by melodramatic
gesture and abrasive Caledonian invective. Though lacking in outright
pace, he bustled tirelessly between attack and defence, typically
winning the ball, flicking a pass, then surging forward to receive
the return. On reaching enemy territory, he could finish venomously
- as he proved with a hat-trick against West Ham in 1962- and
another potent weapon was a prodigiously long throw.

Addicted
as he was to winning at everything - Dave would pour his entire
being into a casual game of snooker - it followed that he was
devastated in defeat, a situation he strove so hard to avoid that
in some 40 cup finals at all playing levels, he never finished
on the losing side.
Such unquenchable spirit was never more evident than in recovery
from a twice-broken left leg -the first fracture came in a clash
with Noel Cantwell in a European tie at Old Trafford in December
1963, the second nine months later on his comeback against Shrewsbury
reserves. Such calamity would have ended the career of lesser
men; in his case, it merely added to the aura of indestructibility
that had enveloped him since his indomitable contribution to Tottenham's
early-sixties triumphs. Yet, unthinkably now, the Scottish international
might never have arrived at the Lane. In March 1959, Bill Nicholson
had been making overtures to Swansea's Mel Charles, and had the
Welshman not opted for Arsenal he would almost certainly have
joined Tottenham instead of Dave. Later Bill maintained that it
was Mackay he wanted all along, and was delighted to pay Hearts
£32,000 for his signature.

Come
the mid-sixties, Dave had taken over as skipper and, his mastery
over ball and men undimmed, led Spurs to FA Cup Final victory
in 1967. By then, he was operating in a mainly defensive role
but the earlier years of midfield effort had exacted a toll and
injuries became more frequent. Perhaps, too, he needed a new challenge
and he found it at Derby, whom he joined for £5,000 {a reduced
fee in recognition of his services) in July 1968. Under Brian
Clough he played masterfully alongside centre-half Roy McFarland
and in his first season helped the Rams lift the Second Division
title, as well as sharing the Footballer of the Year award with
Manchester City's Tony Book. Success in management followed, including
a Championship at Derby, but it is to his fabulous achievements
as a Spur that Dave owes his undying reputation. Nicholson called
him his best signing, and he has been compared to the great Duncan
Edwards. Nothing more need be said.